


and as you leave, i thrive

by ghostieteef



Series: charcoal and smolder [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abandonment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, LGBTQ Themes, Name Changes, PAST NON-CON ELEMENTS ARE ALLUDED TO BUT NEVER EXPLICITLY STATED OR DESCRIBED, POV Second Person, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostieteef/pseuds/ghostieteef
Summary: “Akika, don’t talk to your mother that way-” She starts, but then stops.Your brain is fuzzy and burning from the inside, protesting and angry and violent. Not-you lingers at the front- you can see them, vaguely. They’re you, but they’re not. They’re in your head, and controlling your body but- but they look nothing like you.“It’s Zeshin. Zeshin Shirogane,” Not-you snarls with your voice. She goes quiet. “You are not my- our- fuck, mother, anymore. You haven’t been since you and your fucking husband left mmme on the doorstep and promised you’d be back in an hour.”“Aki-”“No,” Not-you trembles. The phone shakes in your hand, which they are using to call from. “No. Fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking husband. I’m done. I’m done with your fucking bullshit.”(Or; Zeshin creates a new family out of pathwork and yellow thread and sunflowers, because his old one has hurt him and abandoned him and his new one believes he deserves something more. Something better.)
Relationships: Shirogane Zeshin & Ichikawa Naomi, Shirogane Zeshin & Osachi Katsumi, Shirogane Zeshin & Shirogane Osamu, Shirogane Zeshin & Shirogane Tsumugi, Shirogane Zeshin & Suketsune Shuuichi
Series: charcoal and smolder [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182851
Kudos: 1





	and as you leave, i thrive

**Author's Note:**

> yo here we go zeshin time bro
> 
> hes so cool. we love him. such a king.
> 
> also ab that tag in all caps: its never explicitly stated that zeshin went through a non-con experience. its alluded to in the 1st nd 2nd sections, but its never actually said. it never gets more explicit than the third paragraph in the first section (you can avoid that) and zeshin having delusions ab ppl's hands being on him. nothing more.
> 
> ANYWAYS with that outta tha way, enjoy this!!! maybe!!! its not as long as i would like it 2 be but i have to keep reminding myself that the quality is what matters, not the quantity. (im rlly bad at it but im working on it sdnfnds)
> 
> HAVE FUN WITH THIS BYEEE

You are thirteen and alone in a house, but that’s okay.

Your parents love you, but they’re never around. You find yourself forgetting the lullabies your mother would sing you if you woke up in the dead of night. You forget her face, and you forget her voice. The same happens with your father- first his kind hands, then his smile, then his voice, too.

You have half a mind to think it has something to do with why when you were delusional and high off meds at a hospital- lower body throbbing and tears running endlessly down your cheeks. You don’t remember what happened that night; just that there was your uncle and tons of alcohol and a dark, dark room.

You don’t think you want to remember.

Still, though, you forget. You forget your old friends- cheery people with smiles that stuck to their faces like plaster. They’d hit you, sometimes. You hope that one day you forget that, too.

Part of you thinks that the reason your parents are gone is because you told them that you didn’t want to be a girl anymore. You shake those thoughts out of your head, though.

You are thirteen, and you are alone in a house- but your parents love you still, and you are okay.

_ * * * _

It’s been another year.

You light the final candle on the menorah and sit at the door, waiting for your parents to come home on your birthday.

They never do.

You pass out there, that night- and wake up with an ache in your back and the itching need to take a shower. You feel as if there are hands on you- on your thighs, waist and you need to get them off, off, off.

You don’t cry when you find no trace of your parents ever having come back within the night. You don’t. (You do.)

When you see your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you pause- and almost cry again. (You don’t, this time. You kind of wish you did.) Your cheeks are puffy and swollen from self-induced vomit- from when you’ve taken your hand and reached it down your throat until you threw up after meals.

It looks like there’s bruises under your eyes. And your eyes look dead- withering away from the proud, proud colors they once were. They’re less vibrant than before.

Your parents always had said that they made you priceless, special. When you’d cry after bullies harassed you over them, they’d hug you close and tell you that your eyes were a sign of hope. That they were a blessing.

Your mouth gains a bitter taste when you remember that in detail.

Your hair has not changed much- always long, always tangled, always fluffy; but it looks a lot more stiff and greasy than before, sticking up in places it normally wouldn’t have.

Ghostings of hands drown you in cold reality and you all but throw off your clothes and turn the shower water on- jumping in immediately despite the icy water that soaks into your veins,

You just- you need the hands off. You need them away.

You pick up a scrub brush and completely drown it in body wash, and then you scrub away your skin. You press down harder, and harder, and harder- and when you take the scrub brush away your skin is flushed and irritated and red.

You turn the shower water back to cold, and let it splash onto your burning skin. You shiver under the water, but you let it freeze you as you scrub away at your hair.

When you step out of the shower, your skin is still pink- but your eyes are a bit brighter and your hair is finally clean. It doesn’t look stained or muddy, anymore- still black and smooth.

Smiling doesn’t often come easy.

You find yourself doing it now, though.

_ * * * _

It rains often, these days.

You enjoy it, and decide to make the dead house you live in pretty for when your parents come back.

The flower shop owner welcomes you with open arms, suggesting seeds and flowers and soil. You leave with a big smile and arms full of purchases, promising to come back soon.

You dig into the front yard, placing down pots and soil and seeds. You plant and plant and plant, and months later- while it’s raining, you sit on the porch’s steps with drenched hair and listen to it as it collides with dozens of blossoming flowers you slaved for weeks over.

The yard grows and grows and grows as you plant seed after seed after seed. The house flourishes inside too- you buy recipe books and cook and bake as well as you can. You’re not as great at it as your father was- but you learn how to make honey and chocolate chip pancakes to surprise your parents when they come back for you.

You make new friends when you get transferred in your last year of grade school.

Katsumi is first- and then the Suketsune twins, and then Kiichi and Naomi and Misaki and soon all of your other classmates.

Some of them are like you.

Shuuichi was born a girl, but is neither male or female. Chiyoko was born a boy, but is a girl, now. Naomi is a girl and then is nothing, and Misaki is everything at once.

You decide that you’re like them. A budding flower- once a girl, now a boy. When you tell them, instead of leaving, they smile at you and throw a party.

They ask you if you’re okay with the whole class coming. You nod, and smile, and say yes. Everyone has no trouble brushing the femininity of your voice or body or eyes away and looking at you solely for who you are.

The man in the shop congratulates you, that night when you tell him what happened- and his daughter comes downstairs too and sings praise and joy.

You ask if it’s okay for you to use their last names. (You love your parents. They love you. You don’t know why you asked them this, but at the same time you do.)

They say yes.

You scroll through Tsumugi’s phone with her and sift through names, only stopping when you land on one you like. Zeshin- it rings within your ears. The site describes it as a person of exceptional kindness, intelligence, and creativity.

When you pick it, Tsumugi laughs and calls you her younger brother. You don’t cry, and she doesn’t either when you call her your older sister. (You both cry.)

“Zeshin Shirogane,” She says, all the fondness in the world in her voice. “It’s perfect. Perfect for my baby brother.”

You laugh, and cry, and hug her until you fall asleep.

Zeshin Shirogane emerges from torn sunflower petals, shining in the rain.

_ * * * _

Your friends adjust with ease.

Shuuichi threatens the school district with a blunt sort of protectiveness and then does the same with the officials in charge of changing names.

They shake their heads and request a large sum of money- one that Shuuichi cannot pay, dragged down by the poor and filthy hands of their alcoholic parents.

Naomi steps up, though- and furthermore, offers to pay for name changes and surgeries for the rest of the class.

You don’t cry when your top surgery is scheduled to take place in the next two months, nor when Naomi pays for testosterone. (You do.)

Part of you worries about leeching off of them. The rest of the class agrees. Naomi laughs, then, and pulls out a black card that belongs to her father.

“My dad’s a fucking bastard. He wouldn’t mind if a couple thousand went missing.” She cackles, with a cheery lilt in her voice.

You decide you admire her, then.

_ * * * _

“Mom,” You murmur into the phone. “When are you and dad coming back?”

It’s been months since you’ve thought about your parents. Your name has been changed and you’ve gotten top surgery and testosterone and therapy. You’ve been getting better and better.

Still, you’ve refused to talk about your parents. Part of you knows why. The other part of you begs and pleads with it that they still love you and that they are coming back. (You know they hold nothing but disdain towards you.)

“Oh,  _ Akika- dear,”  _ She worries through the device. You wince at the use of your former name. “What has  _ happened  _ to your voice? Did those stupid tr-”

You cut her off.

_ “Mother,” _ You say, nothing but ice in your voice. You’ve decided that you’re done. Anger boils within your veins, dying them red, scorching the insides of your guts and lungs and throat. Your eyes burn with unshed tears. “It’s  _ Zeshin,  _ now. Not that- Not that you would _ fucking _ know.”

“Akika, don’t talk to your mother that way-” She starts, but then stops.

Your brain is fuzzy and burning from the inside, protesting and angry and violent. Not-you lingers at the front- you can see them, vaguely. They’re you, but they’re not. They’re in your head, and controlling your body but- but they look nothing like you.

“It’s _ Zeshin. _ Zeshin  _ Shirogane,”  _ Not-you snarls with your voice. She goes quiet. “You are not my- our- _ fuck, _ mother, anymore. You haven’t been since you and your fucking husband left mm _ me  _ on the doorstep and promised you’d be back in an hour.”

“Aki-”

“No,” Not-you trembles. The phone shakes in your hand, which they are using to call from.  _ “No. _ Fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking husband. I’m _ done. _ I’m done with your  _ fucking bullshit.” _

You and Not-you’s eyes burn, before stars burst and tears spill down your cheeks. “Go and fuck yourselves. Go  _ die _ , for all I care. Don’t fucking come back. If you come back, _ I’m calling the fucking police,”  _ Not-you sobs, angry, into the phone. “You and your husband are not my family anymore. That belongs to Osamu-san and Tsumugi and Shuuichi and Chiyoko and Katsumi and- and- and, _ fuck _ \- Everyone that’s fucking been here when you’re fucking not, _ when you’re supposed to be!” _

Not-you bites your body’s lip. You wince, knowing it will hurt tomorrow.

“You left me, and now I’m leaving you. If you come back, don’t expect me to fucking be here. I hope you both rot away and die. You’re disgusting and I- I fucking  _ hate you _ . You left me when I needed you most and- _ fuck, _ you never fucking deserved to be my parents. You’re not- you’re not, anymore.”

“We don’t particularly care,” That’s her husband’s voice, cold and not doing a good job of hiding the hesitance and hurt. “We will not pay the bills anymore.”

“Good fucking riddance,” Not-you snarls. Her husband seems to stiffen. “Kill yourself. Fucking die. I hate you. Never fucking come back. I wish I could kill you myself.”

“Hon-” He starts.

Not-you slams the hang-up button. You come to be, but aware that Not-you is beside you, at least in your head. _ Block their numbers. _ Another one says. They’re on your other side, now.  _ They don’t deserve us. _

You listen, and sob as you do so.

All three of you are together and one. You cry both inside and out, and they hug you from the inside and whisper promises of something better into your ears.

_ Call Katsumi. _ Not-you says.  _ And for future reference, my name’s Takaya. _

You find yourself smiling a little, before your shaky hands pick up the phone and dial Katsumi’s number.

Takaya whispers encouragement. The other one, Tamamo-no-mae, she supplies- smiles and squeezes your hand on the inside.

You snort a little. Your wikipedia dives went somewhere, at least.

Katsumi picks up.

“Zeshin?” He asks, voice soft.

It’s three in the morning. You don’t know how long it’s been since Takaya hung up the phone and you blocked your parents numbers.

“K- Kats-” You sob. “They- I-”

“Oh.  _ Oh, _ Zeshin, Zee,” Katsumi breathes, soft, with tears in his voice. You can hear rustling. “You don’t have to say anything, but- What’s wrong, Zeshin?”

“They- they fucking-” You sob harder, tears spilling uncontrollably down your cheeks. Tamamo-no-mae offers to speak for you, because you don’t know what to say.

“M- Mom, and ddad, they-” Tamamo-no-mae uses your voice, but it still breaks, and cracks, and cries. “They abandoned- me. They _ left- _ They- They  _ abandoned _ me, Kats-”

“They abandoned me for- for two years- and I’ve been- I’ve been here, thinking they still loved me, thinking-  _ Hoping  _ -they’d come back but-” A shaky breath leaves you, and Tamamo-no-mae, and Takaya all at once. “They didn’t- They- And they never, ever, ever will.”

“Zeshin-” Katsumi’s voice is quiet, kind. “Would you-” A pause. “Would you like to live with me, and Misaki?”

You’re pulled back.  _ You have the right to choose,  _ Tamamo-no-mae says. You smile, and a sound warbles from your lips that sounds like something between a sob and laughter. “Please-  _ Please,  _ Katsumi.” You say.

You can almost hear the soft, caring smile from Katsumi’s end of the phone.

“Okay.” He says.

**Author's Note:**

> bim bam bop my tumblr is @ghostieteef pls come bother me over there ill love u forever


End file.
